The Six Sided Circle

The doorbell rings startling Sammie away from the work on his computer. A clap of thunder rumbles beneath his feet as he ambles to the door.

“Just a minute,” he calls out grabbing his housecoat off the couch. He reaches the door and swings it open grudgingly.

No one is there.

“Kids,” he hisses under his breath.

As he’s about to close the door something catches his eye. He looks down to see a cardboard box sitting at his feet.

He picks it up for examination. It doesn’t have a shipping label, instead, his name and address have been written by hand. He recognizes the handwriting, it’s his soon to be ex-wife’s.

He carries it into the house and retrieves his box cutter. He severs the tape then pulls back the flaps to expose a smaller box inside. It's made of wood and covered with scribbled illegible writing. A rope is wrapped around it and a small lock dangles from the latch on the front.

Sammie plops down on the couch with the box on his lap trying to figure out what Donna would be sending him in the middle of their bitter divorce. He lifts it to his ear and gives it a shake. The items shift but they give no hint to what’s inside. He pulls in a breath then blows away the dust like a kid extinguishing a birthday candle. He cuts off the rope then turns back to the shipping box to find the key.

There isn't one.

In the end he doesn't need it, the lock is flimsy and weak; the box cutter opens it with ease. He grips the lid with hesitation, but before he can pull it open the cover is flung upward knocking his hand away. A blast of air gusts past his face rippling his hair. It’s cold on his skin and prickles his cheeks. The ceiling fan rocks overhead caught in the current, and his wedding photo on the wall tilts to the side. His head throbs; he feels nauseated like he’s just eaten some bad oysters.

He swallows hard and pushes past the churn in his stomach, then slips a hand into the box. His fingers tighten against the unnatural chill, it’s at least five degrees colder than the temperature of the house. His nail scratches something, he grips it with his fingertips and pulls it out. Lightning flashes through the window casting light on the small black moleskin notebook with an elastic strap down the front. It’s blank on the outside but flipping through the pages he finds the same thing has been written repeatedly on every page. It’s scribbled in Hebrew so he can’t make sense of it, but the words are etched in red… blood red. Although he can’t translate it, he knows a warning when he sees one, and whatever the message says is exactly that.

His curiosity gets the better of him and he slips a hand back into the box, this time feeling the chill crawling further up his arm. He removes a watch, a pink cup, and a gold tooth. An uneasy bewilderment washes over him as he stares at the gold tooth. He cringes at the feel of it against his skin and tosses it back into the box. He’s returning the other items when he realizes there’s something else at the bottom. It's a black envelope and what it contains makes him swoon in pleasant surprise. It's money and lots of it from what he can tell. He sucks in a breath feeling himself being torn into two conflicting emotions. Unbridled elation on one side; wary perplexity on the other. It doesn't make sense for Donna to send him money, he's set to gain everything in the divorce.

Instead of trying to rationalize it, he reaches in to count the bills. The grin is wiped from his face when his fingers make contact and a twinge of pain shoots through his hand continuing up his arm and nestling deep in his chest. It hits him with such spontaneity he struggles to catch is breath. It doesn't last longer than a minute or two, then just as soon as it came, it’s gone and he feels normal again.

He looks down at the weight in his hand just now remembering he's holding the wad of cash. He counts the notes imperiously, he’s just become twenty thousand dollars richer than he was less than an hour ago. Something is very wrong here, but he ignores his intuition and decides he’s going to the bank first thing in the morning before Donna has a chance to change her mind.

Another rumble of thunder rocks the house, and something crashes behind Sammie making him jump. He swings around with his heart pumping fast! A rusty nail protrudes from the wall, below it lay his wedding photo torn and littered with glass. Lightning flashes on the image and he sees Donna’s face has been replaced by another’s. He jumps back rubbing at his eyes and just like that Donna’s face is hers again. When his heart steadies back to a normal rhythm he decides to call it a night and goes upstairs to crawl into bed.

***

After tossing and turning for an hour Sammie gives up on the idea of sleep ever finding him. A draft of cool air coils around him like a wet blanket and he shivers against the chill. When he tugs the comforter up to cover himself it hitches like something’s holding it down. He rolls onto his side and his eyes fall on the outline of a woman's body lying beside him. He blinks a few times thinking he's just imagining it, but then she rolls over to face him. A flash of lightning crackles outside the window illuminating her face, it's the woman he saw in the photo. Her eyes are pinholes piercing him with unremitting malevolence. She reaches out to touch him with her withered fingers and broken yellowed nails. He wants to move away from their touch, but his body disobeys the command. He feels the coolness graze his skin as her palm covers his eyes blinding him of all sight. He's thrust into darkness and it’s then the spell is broken.

He bolts upright so quickly he bumps his head on the headboard. When the stars clear he’s nearly blinded by the harsh light of day peeking through the curtains. The rains have stopped but the wind has picked up rattling the window in its frame. Beeping is coming from beside him and he recognizes it as his alarm. He quiets the noise and examines the empty space beside him. Although no one is there, the spot is warm and the pillow's compressed as if someone has slept there throughout the night.

He pivots awkwardly when he motions to pull off the covers and is struck with an incapacitating back spasm. He rolls off the bed crashing to the floor twisting his ankle on the way down. He stifles a scream and waits for it to pass. When it does, he manages to pull himself back into bed and pilfers through his bedside drawer until he finds some Advil. He swallows five and it's not long before the pain begins to subside. He's only afforded a few moments of relief before the nausea from the overdose sets in. It hits him full force and he's on his side violently vomiting into the waste bin. When he’s finished, he finds enough strength to limp downstairs for some water.

***

He’s grabbing a glass from the sink when he hears a crash! He looks out the window to see a broken branch flattening the top of his car. The roof is caved in and the windows have been blown out. The glass slips from his hand shattering around his feet.

He doesn’t have time to react, his gut twists and he feels his bowels shift. He turns to hobble to the bathroom and his foot comes down on the shards. He nearly crawls to the commode leaving a bloody trail behind him, but he makes it just in time. He drops his weight into the porcelain then reaches for the tp. There's a click and darkness falls over him.

The wind has knocked the power out.

He fumbles in the dark rummaging through the cabinets to find his Pepto Bismol. He grabs what feels the most like it and drinks the whole thing before crawling his way to the couch.

He falls into the cushions sweating and shivering with chills. Through his delirium he hears the phone ringing and blindly reaches for it.

“Hello,” he croaks.

“Did you get it?” she asks with malice in her tone.

“Donna?” he coughs; it burns his throat.

She laughs. “I see you did.”

His mind jumps back to the box, it's odd contents, and the money. To the moleskin with the writing in blood. “What did you send me?”

She smiles, he can hear it when she speaks. “It’s too late to matter,” she laughs.

The phone falls from his hand, he's consumed by the inferno growing inside him. What is happening to me, he thinks? Then he realizes the fatal mistake he’s made. It wasn't Pepto Bismol he swallowed; it was the pink cleaning detergent the maids keep in the cupboard.

A shadow eclipses him and he's peering into the face of that woman. Her mouth falls opens, jaws unhinging from the sockets. Jagged teeth clamp down on his neck and he screams! The pain is immense, but it's overshadowed by Donna’s triumphant laughter. It is the last thing he hears before everything goes dark, silence enshrouds him, and then there is nothing at all.

***

Donna is back at the house she and Sammie once shared. The house she would’ve lost in the divorce if it wasn't for his untimely demise.

She walks the grounds reminded of the painful memories that fill the halls. The years of abuse, countless affairs, and acrimonious arguments about things that no longer matter.

“Ma, what's this?” her son asks rotating a small wooden box around in his hands.

It's wrapped in rope and secured with a tiny lock on the front. It looks just as it had on the day she bought it. Dusty, old, and covered in cobwebs as if it hasn’t been opened in many moons.

She takes it from him and sets it on the counter. “That stays with the house,” she says and walks into the hall calling over her shoulder. “Grab those boxes while you’re in there and take them to the car.”

Art stacks the moving boxes onto the dolly then walks back to the wooden box on the counter.

His mother calls from the foyer. “Art, hurry up! We need to go, the new owners will be here any minute.”

She does a final walk through making sure nothing is left behind, then steps out onto the porch. She looks back at the house and bids a final farewell to her old life. Goodbye and good riddance she thinks, then turns to the car where Art is waiting for her. Art, her son, the only good thing to come out of her lousy marriage. She smiles at her only child watching him fumble with something she can't make out from this distance. She tries to shield her eyes from the sun with a hand, but it doesn't help. She’s digging into her purse in search of her sunglasses when she remembers she left them in the kitchen.

She goes back inside and finds them sitting on the counter, but something is amiss. Her heart drops and she runs to the car calling Art’s name. She's sprinting across the lawn going against hope, but by the time she reaches him he’s already opening the box.